


These Small Hours

by cloverfield



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Acceptance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Series, implied post traumatic stress disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24507295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield
Summary: “You won’t let me go,” says Fai.
Relationships: Fay D. Fluorite/Kurogane
Comments: 6
Kudos: 84





	These Small Hours

**Author's Note:**

> A quiet moment.

The fall of Fai’s fingertips over his ribs wakes Kurogane immediately, though he does not move; his breathing does not hitch, even as the edge of a once-torn fingernail catches gently on scar tissue, Fai’s hands shaking as they stroke down.

“I’m still here,” he murmurs, and Fai flinches in the echo of the words. His touch stutters where he shudders, and the bedding rasps against itself, cloth-on-cloth as Fai moves, jolting away to the other side of the futon.

A long moment of silence settles between them, wind curling soft around the darkened edges of the verandah and tickling the shutters as winter sighs outside.

“I’m not sorry for waking you.” The words are soft, their edges thick with an old, old sorrow. It’s not an apology, only barely an acknowledgement - but Kurogane does not need either, not after so many years.

In the dim of the room, Fai’s shoulders are hunched, his head bowed.

Kurogane rolls onto his left side with care, slowly, breathes out as his spine settles into the dip of the mattress, the weight of his body sinking down into the plushness of it. Warmth floats from his skin, lost to the chill of the night air. “Come here.”

The hand Fai takes is not held out for long, no resistance in the slump of Fai’s knees across the futon, no resistance in the shivering warmth of the body that curls into his side, Kurogane’s lips catching on a tangle of soft hair as he presses a kiss to the crown of the head that tucks beneath his chin. Fai’s hands are heavy on his hips, fingers tight and clinging.

_“Kuro-sama.”_

It’s barely a breath, huffed shakily into the hollow of Kurogane’s throat, warm on skin that flushes with remembrance: this is not the first night to be spent so, and it will not be the last.

The grip of Fai’s hands tightens, a stutter rolling down the trembling spine that Kurogane strokes to smooth steadiness beneath his palm, and the press of Fai’s forehead into his collarbone is almost painful for its sudden force. “Ah–”

“I have you.”

Fai’s gasp melts into the air, shaking and soft. His face is wet, tears sliding down to hit the swell of Kurogane’s chest as he breathes in slow, breathes out slower, feels Fai’s ribcage rise and fall as in he echoes the pace that Kurogane sets to claw himself out of whatever memory left him so unsettled.

“One would think – after _so long_ –”

“ _Tch_.”

The snort of laughter Fai makes through his nose isn’t graceful - sounds a bit wet, to be honest, choked and a little thick where the edge of a sob bleeds through - but it’s laughter and so Kurogane will take it over the tears. The rub of Fai’s cheek against his chest, the catch of his lips as he smiles through them is sign enough that the worst has passed, and Kurogane drags his hand up over the slope of Fai’s back to the arch of his neck and the drooping tangle of his hair, so soft beneath rough fingertips.

It’s easy to stroke slowly down through the spill of it, yellow in sunlight and washed of any colour at all in the dark, and Kurogane fits his fingers to the curve of Fai’s skull with every caress, thumb trailing over the shell of his ear and the slough of sound barely more than silence in this quiet moment.

“You won’t let me go,” says Fai, after a while - after long enough that Kurogane’s eyes have closed and his senses started to slip, his hand warm and still where it curls against the nape of Fai’s neck, fingers threaded through his hair.

“Never.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be for a prompt fill, but it spiralled out of context and away from the point of the prompt. I still liked it enough to keep.


End file.
